At least three times I've been love;

Even so, my heart is whole.

Each love overflows the banks

and never violates my soul

 

How can passion well three times

And still not trespass lovers' trust?

These loves, connected, feed the fields

As three pure streams quench thirsty dust.

 

My groom, the passion of my youth:

I grip his heart, he fills my mind.

The fire between us burns, in truth,

in equal share, in equal kind.

 

The children from this union sprung

I cherish, no regard to self,

They'll never grasp the prayers strung

from earth to Heaven for their health.

 

And finally, the love that pales

         the others, and yet fans the flames.

That constant Lover of my soul,

              Immanuel, His holy name.

He gives to me with recklessness

                 Every gift that I may need.

I gladly yield my fields to Him, 

           My rivers, harvest, and my seed.